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Archive for September, 2009

Time for a break

We have been here about a month and I think for me at least, I’m hitting that period where it stops feeling like a holiday/novelty and begins to sink in that this is home for two years. The routine of work is becoming set and the attractions of the Seychelles becoming more routine. Like living in London, it’s too easy to forget what you have on your doorstep and to take advantage of it. So I decide that after first payday we should take ourselves off for the weekend to expand our Seychellois horizons. I settle on the island of La Digue which I know is easy to get to and so small that you can cycle round, its pace is slow, so right up our street I reckon. ..

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It wouldn’t happen in the UK would it?

No hanging bodywork. Thumb and car to scale

No hanging bodywork. Thumb and car to scale

Colleagues, perhaps disturbed by how quickly my cheery gallant response to car enquiries has been usurped by grumbling tin-pot car rants, suggested calling the owner about the problems experienced. Really? I wasn’t too sure given that we had bought it and all, however when I spoke with the other one I told him it was a great idea. Given that he was almost best buds with the guy after going to the licensing place together; wouldn’t it also make sense if he called him and have a conversation ‘man to man’? The other one agreed. In full knowledge of my thinly disguised buck passing. That’s partnership.

He called.

The man said he would come and see the car.

He came three hours later.

He took it away.

He brought it back two hours later. Bodywork fixed. No questions (or money asked).

Would that happen in the UK?

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You have got to be kidding

 The car wasn’t turning over this morning.

Our neighbour woke her husband to see if he had any jump leads (it seems an essential bit of kit here). He didn’t.

The other one tried again. It worked.

Not a religious sort but wondering if there is a god or saint of cars. It might be worth the investment.

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Car owner spotted

The son of the guy who sold us our car appears to work at the Pirates Arms as he said hello and asked how the car was. Foolish boy.  I explained about the bodywork, well at least I think I did. He looked quite confused. Being Mancunian (i.e. from Manchester, England, great city but usual city problems and rogues) my urban antennae quivered with suspicion but the other one was more trusting. Disliking confrontation and being far too polite than is often necessary the whole exchange came to a pointless end. More crushingly, I don’t expect free beers on the house any time soon. Dammit.

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Hang on I don’t remember that…

Twenty four hours in and I get out of the passenger door, close it and as doing so the body work over the mudguard and the wheel comes off.

I kick it. It goes back in again (at least that’s something).

People ask how the car is, I try for the gallant cheery response ‘it’s ok, for our budget it seems fine though there is a slight problem with the door, I have to kick the bodywork into place each time I close it , ha, ha’.

Inwardly, I’m not laughing.

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Step forward our car

So I called the man about the car. It hadn’t yet made its way to the garage and our money hadn’t yet made its way to our account (see money transfers). So that was ok. I called again and this time our about to be car (subject to the repairs made) was delivered back to the school for our expert’s scrutiny – and the other one’s as he hadn’t seen the car being otherwise employed. Luckily, he approved.

Our eagle eyed expert noticed that one tyre hadn’t been changed so back it went with a next day appointment made for exchange. This was done and we found ourselves the owners of a 7 year old, £5k priced, Daihatsu Charade. I’d say proud but I don’t think that quite covers the emotion felt. Still it meant we could say goodbye to our rental car and its battery problems and hello to our new car and…

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Cumulonimbus

As in clouds, as in the weather forecast today. What a great word. Drop that into conversation this weekend (if you can say it, I can’t).

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